


Sword and Shield

by sinkingwmyships



Series: Multifandom Oneshots [2]
Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Other, tumblr writing prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkingwmyships/pseuds/sinkingwmyships
Summary: “Did you know Polonius is dead? … I thought it was the King.”“My lord, that would be treason.”“It would berevenge well deserved.“[Prompt 2: "Asking for help doesn't make you weak."]
Relationships: Claudius & Hamlet (Hamlet), Gertrude & Hamlet (Hamlet), Hamlet/Horatio (Hamlet), Polonius & Hamlet (Hamlet)
Series: Multifandom Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655530
Kudos: 9





	Sword and Shield

**Author's Note:**

> Finally did something for my no. 1 classic lit OTP xD

Horatio quickly ascended the stairs, each step taking him closer and closer to the top of the tower. It was a moonless night, the sky dark and clouded over like a storm was coming. The torches mounted on the wall flickered as he brushed past them, robe fluttering against his legs. The higher he climbed, the more the pit in his stomach grew; he dearly hoped Hamlet hadn’t done anything stupid.

Pushing the wooden door open, Horatio emerged into the cold evening. Huffing for air, he scanned his surroundings before spotting a dark figure some distance away, leaning against the edge of the tower. Quickly walking over, he only needed to touch Hamlet on the shoulder before Horatio felt himself engulfed in a tight hug, what little air he had in his lungs knocked out again. The prince was shaking, and he was frozen all over, from his hands to the tip of his nose that was now buried deep in the crook of Horatio’s neck. No words were needed as they stood there, together, in an embrace that both wished could last an eternity, but knew couldn’t. At last, the prince pulled away, and for the first time of the night Horatio saw his face: worn and pale as death.

“Thank you for coming.” Hamlet murmured, his words almost lost in the nighttime wind. “I know it was very sudden.”

“No matter, my lord.” Horatio replied, and tried to look at the prince straight in the eyes, but could not as those dark orbs kept darting away. “Why did you send for me?”

“Did you hear about the incident in the Queen’s bedchamber tonight?” Hamlet asked. Seeing Horatio’s nod, he added, slowly:

“Did you know Polonius is dead?”

“What? How?” Horatio couldn’t help but exclaim. Then he felt the prince’s grip on his arms tighten, and it hit him at once. “My lord, you….”

“I thought it was the King.” Hamlet’s cold remark cut him off. Frowning, Horatio said:

“My lord, that would be treason.”

“It would be _revenge well deserved_.” The prince snapped back, dark eyes looking at Horatio now filled with rage. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you wish to know.”

He twisted out of the embrace and turned away, arms crossed tightly on the rough surface of the tower’s bricks. Suppressing a sigh, Horatio spoke:

“I know you’re angry, but that’s no way to set things right. You can’t just go… killing people like that.”

“And why can’t I?”

“Because then you’d be no better than the King.”

The prince’s head snapped towards him, and for a moment Horatio thought he was going to yell, to scream at him to leave. Not that he would obey him without a fight, but the thought of Hamlet lashing out at what Horatio knew was his last ally pained him more than he thought it would. But the prince didn’t. The anger on his face was quick to flare but quicker to fade, and Horatio felt his heart grow heavy as Hamlet’s expression shifted to something like despair, something like sorrow… something like fear. The prince scoffed, the corners of his mouth curving up humorlessly:

“You make it _so_ hard for me to accept my fate, Horatio.”

Silence settled over them like a heavy veil. For a long while, neither men said anything. Both wanted to prolong this illusion of peace, so that one would not have to cause pain, and the other would not have to witness it. Hamlet’s fingers curled against the cold wind, and then he was shaking again, his glassy eyes staring blankly towards the ground. How Horatio wanted to pull him back, to embrace him again, to take him away from this suffocating place. But just as Hamlet had said, he was an interference: an interference in his quest, his relationships, his life. There was nothing Horatio could do to alter that — this he understood, clear and painful as day. But it wasn’t going to stop him from at least trying.

“Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, you know.” The prince’s shoulders tensed up as the weight and warmth of Horatio’s robe draped over him, and he turned to look at the other man, dark eyes wide. Choosing to remain silent, Horatio smoothed out a fold in the fabric, then bowed and took his leave. But just as he was turning away, a sudden grip on his wrist made him stop mid-track.

“Then… I’m asking now.” Hamlet’s voice was soft and hesitant, and his eyes were avoiding Horatio’s own, but his hand has said it all. So, quietly obliging, Horatio returned to his place, wrapped his arms around the prince, and stood, silent, as he listened to the whisper of Hamlet’s breathing and counted the steady beating of his heart. And he almost chuckled, too, when Hamlet’s flustered murmur sounded right next to his ear:

“Just… for a little while.”

“Of course, my lord.”


End file.
